I'm the mom who makes you feel better about your parenting.

Living with the Enemy

My family is a unit, here to support and love one another blah blah blah blah blah. That’s all true, but in day-to-day reality, for all intents and purposes, they are the enemy. And no ordinary enemy either. My children are super-villains. My husband my arch-rival. What? That’s not how you’d describe things in your home?

The super-villains adeptly lure you in to a false sense of security. They use their (evil) big eyes, their (evil) cherub faces, their (evil) giggles, their (evil) little hands held tightly in your own all to entice you to let your guard down, to reveal the chink in your armor. They want to know your kryptonite. (Yes, for the purposes of this post I am a superhero, what of it?)

Turns out I can be brought to my knees begging for mercy by 8 or more consecutive hours of constant noise. That is this superhero’s weakness. And L knows it. S is probably onto me too, but L knows for sure. Now I live in fear: what is he plotting? How is he going to use my weakness against me?

So far, he just keeps perfecting his attack methods. He knows all sorts of noises, some are better (worse) than others at breaking me down. When his voice gets tired, after maybe 7 hours or so, he knows that banging an action figure against something hard again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again…. will bring about his desired result. Evil, I tell you.

I spend my time trying to make conversations end. This is not easy. So far, impossible. What if I just don’t answer or respond in any way to his comment? Let’s examine a recent conversation where I employed this method. In the car we were discussing the movie “Beauty and the Beast.” He asked me who the beast is:

me: You know, the one who is a beast.

L: Who? What beast?

me: The guy. You know, the guy. The one the movie is about. The one who is a beast.

L: Which one?

me: The one who is mean and scary at the beginning but turns out to be nice in the end.

L: He’s still mean at the end.

At this point, I realize that this conversation is stupid and is unraveling me. He’s got the last word. I just won’t say anything else and we’ll be done with it.

L: He’s still mean at the end.

L: He’s still mean at the end.

L: He’s still mean at the end.

He doesn’t just say it over and over again. He waits 2-3 seconds between each time. Just long enough for me to think he’s finally finished.

L: He’s still mean at the end.

How many times is he going to repeat himself? Does he think I can’t hear him? What exactly is he looking for from me? I’ll just continue to not say anything. Surely, he’ll shut up soon.

L: He’s still mean at the end.

L: He’s still mean at the end.

Are you wondering how many times he said this until either a) he stopped of his own volition or b) I finally acknowledged him? The answer is 14. He said it 14 fucking times and at that point I was tempted to drive the car into a tree. Instead I decided to give him the smallest acknowledgement possible.

me: mmm-hmmm.

L: Is he still mean at the end, Mommy?

He’s done it. Used his evil powerspersistence to trap me back into this asinine conversation. If you’re thinking that this isn’t so bad, multiply this conversation times a day’s worth. He’s up around 6:30 and goes to bed around 7. Do you know how many annoying conversations he can squeeze into that time? A lot.

But it’s not just annoying conversations. I’ve learned that with the Y-chromosome comes a whole host of sound effects. These include (but are not limited to): engine noises, brake noises, gun noises, laser noises, crashing noises, explosion noises, swords-swishing-through-air noises, and fart noises. Add these and the conversations to constant movement and my head explodes. SUPER-VILLAIN!

S is a mini super-villain. Maybe a villain-in-training or VIT. Her sound effects are vastly different and mostly include several unique and distinct whines and cries which she uses to destroy me on a daily basis.

As I mentioned, T is my arch-rival. I compete daily with him to be the one doing dishes rather than putting L to bed, the one “stuck” with S on my lap rather than the one playing some annoying L-game, the one still in bed rather than the one not still in bed. I will run to the kitchen and plunge my hands into raw chicken just so I can say “Honey, my hands are dirty and I think S needs to be changed, could you please do it?”

I live with the enemy. Who will prevail in the end? (That’s easy, totally them.)

Like what you read? Please click the banner below to show your support. One click is all it takes! Easy for you, good for me, we’re all happy.

17 Responses

I would 100% do the chicken thing to bypass having to change my daughter’s diaper. This morning (if you can call that hour of the night morning) after nursing her she pooped and I yelled to my husband over the monitor to change her because I didn’t have my glasses on and couldn’t see. What did he do — he brought me my glasses and went back to bed!

**lol**, I love the super-hero, super-villian, arch rival metaphor. Such a good description of what goes on. I nearly snorted tea out of my nose I laughed to hard at the raw chicken thing at the end of the post. I do that too! **high five**

We had similarly annoying conversations in the car today. I hate to tell you, but it gets worse when the mini super villains can argue with the older ones (“I said blue!” “No you didn’t!” “Yes I did!”… you can see where this is going).

I am laughing so hard that my 3 year old came over and said, “What is it, momma? What is it, momma? What is it, momma?” 10 times followed by 4 “Lemme see, I wanna see”s. It seems that we are living in very similar worlds.

Love your blog, wish you didn’t live in the frozen tundra because we could be friends. (I can’t go North of the Mason Dixon line, it’s against my religion :))

I just sat here silently nodding in complete understanding as I read through the conversation bit. If my son and your son teamed up, they’d be unstoppable. Evil would triumph over us all and we would perish.

I will say, just from reading this post, your husband sounds a bit less of a rival than mine. At least your’s seems to be doing *something* to contribute in the fight against evil, even if it’s just sitting there distracting one of them. Mine just hides in the john for hours until evil passes out.

Maybe we’re like Batman and we just got bit by the baby bug and we now have insane mommy senses and abilities, but we’re really just normal people…and our husbands are our semi-useless sidekicks (Robin).

On another note, I have a blog request for you – I’d like to hear about your decision (or lack of, as the case may be) to have S. If you’ve already written about it, let me know and I’ll go look for it.

I am very curious right now about the thought process that goes into having the 2nd child, and the whole expectations vs reality thing that goes along with it. Everyone I know says that going from 1 kid to 2, especially when they’re close in age, is 10 times more difficult than having the first baby.

OMG.
I read this on my phone last night. I was sitting at the kitchen island, the kids at the dinner table. My son was trying to finish his homework, husband standing next to me sorting bills to pay.
Miss A sat there ON THE TOP OF HER LUNGS repeating random phrases over and over and over and over and over again in the 4-second-intervals just to annoy everyone. We’d yell at her to stop, then she’d wait 10 seconds, chose another random phrase (such as “oh my darlin'” or “white paper” or “in the ketchup”), repeat process.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

So I pretended I needed to take a crap, told the hubby to deal with it, and hid in the upstairs bathroom until it was all over.

The Beauty and the Beast episode is hilarious. Because my daughter has had the exact same conversation with me. Only I give in way before 14 times. I don’t know how you did it. You must have stronger mental fortitude than I because she had me around the fifth time of trying to explain why she’s the Beauty but her name is Belle…She can’t be the beauty, her name is Belle…right mom?

Come away with me. Let’s go to a place where there is silence and wine. No laundry and lots of comfy seating areas. Not goldfish crackers and lots of cheese and crackers. Come to a land of coffee and grown-up TV and stores with breakables were kids aren’t allowed.

Help me make the 2011 list! Click the badge below, find my blog (page 14 in alphabetical order) and click "I like this blogger" Thanks!

I've learned that motherhood is a series of shocks and disappointments, disgusting things under my fingernails, horrifying smells and constant irritation. There’s all the joy too, but that’s the stuff you’ve already heard about. Here’s the stuff that you might not hear about.